who can you trust…?

who can you trust when the world softens to a hush and every sound feels like it echoes inside your bones. is it the friend who shows up at the door without needing an invitation, who knows the shape of your silence and doesn’t ask you to break it. is it the one who notices the tremor in your voice even when you bury it under laughter, who waits through the storm without a single demand. trust isn’t a grand gesture—it’s the quiet moments that stack like stones, one steady heartbeat at a time.

who will hold your name like a candle, careful not to let the flame burn it to smoke. who stays when the sky turns feral, when the road disappears into gravel and fog. who lets you spill words in a rush of chaos without sculpting them into something easier to swallow. who looks at the mess and calls it beautiful anyway.

trust lives in the small things that no one photographs: the late-night drives down empty backroads, the weight of a hand on your shoulder when panic claws at the edges, the friend who doesn’t flinch when you say the thing that might scare everyone else. it is in the shared playlists that hold your ghosts, the gravel dust clinging to your vans after a long hike, the wildflowers someone picks just because they know you need a little color on a gray day.

maybe it’s the one who holds eye contact when you tell them the truth that makes your throat burn. maybe it’s the one who doesn’t look away from your shadows, who celebrates your wins without jealousy, who stays for the ugly parts and the slow healing. trust is a rhythm, a pulse, a promise written in the quiet. it’s the person who texts you a sunrise because they know mornings are hard, the one who knows where you hide when the panic hits mid-drive, the one who will sit in a hammock with you until the fear loosens its grip.

ask yourself again, when the night stretches wide and the stars feel too far to touch: who can you trust. the answer isn’t in grand speeches or polished vows. it waits in the pause between words, in the soft weight of a touch that does not let go, in the love that chooses you again and again, even when you can’t quite choose yourself.

with ink & bloom, 🌻